


Nicolæcle

by NestPlaster



Category: Left Behind - Jerry B. Jenkins & Tim LaHaye
Genre: Anal Sex, Bad Taste, Belts, Good Taste, Other, POV Second Person, Scents & Smells, Sweat, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Ties & Cravats, Underwear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 19:53:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7401643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NestPlaster/pseuds/NestPlaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Driven forward by urges you can not control, you must find a common bond between two opposing forces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nicolæcle

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Fuck Me In the Ass Cause I Love Jesus](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2471612) by [radicalhufflepuff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/radicalhufflepuff/pseuds/radicalhufflepuff). 



You sit in your fleshnest. Your sensory organs nestle into the folds and bulges surrounding you, cushioned by dust finer than a moths wing. You are content, but aware of a growing sense of urgency aching at the edge of your perception, of the faintest note that you must soon rise.

You are slowly urged into action, driven by an impulse you can not control. Tentatively at first you swell and push past the puckered orifice of your home, mouth-suckers sliding silk smooth across the threshold to lick at the air. You taste smoke and ash, and you taste a tangy nearness that makes you swell in growing anticipation.

You surge forward now, uncoiling, your length thrilling at the familiar sensation of racing across the threshold of your home into the outside world. Every inch of your flesh tingles as it passes into the outside air, and your hundred mouths suck eagerly at the sky. You can sense him now, close and hot and ready. You crave the flesh even as you leave the flesh.

You hang in the air heavy and arced. You wait eagerly, licking at the ash and sweat that wafts past, and are struck with guidance. Slowly you probe forward, your tip grazing across the soft fur of felt punctuated by horn polished smooth as glass. You find your goal and with great dexterity you lap at the silk. You can taste the acidic tang of oil from when human hands touched this fabric earlier.

All of the fabric falls to the earth as you release the knot, and in the faint wind that marks its passage you taste the stale sweat of the day, the fear and anticipation of the moment, and the pungent undertone of lust that creeps up past the belt still looped in place below.

You are driven by impulses stronger and harder now. You lap across the buckle of the belt, your finest mouths gripping and releasing the metal. The taste is like blood and soon you know the shape of the metal. You manipulate the clasp gracefully and then whip straight in a display of strength. The leather is ripped free of its constraints and snaps taut after flying through the air. The crack reverberates through the leather and down your swollen length, a jolt of pleasure that leaves you hungering for more.

Mucus oozes from your mouths now as you slide your tip between the sweat soaked cotton of the underpants and the sweaty skin of the flesh beneath. You savour both, licking at the fuzz of the fabric and sucking greedily at the heated manflesh as you lick and pull your way over a hipbone and across the rounded top of a buttock. The scents of excitement flood in through your swollen lips as you free them from the clinging fabric. Encircled and wet from your secretions the fabric slides easily down across the curves and ridges. Flesh is freed to feel the heat of the day, and it saturates the air with desire.

You swell and pulse with new urges and slide forward and down. Hair parts before your lapping tip, the coarse shafts tickling and teasing your length as your surge forward. You lick and suck as you go, savouring the moist flesh as you creep around the curve of the crotch and back up into the cleft that beckons you forward. Your fluids mark your path, mingling with the sweat and dirt of the human, leaving a savoury blend of tastes for your later mouths.

You reach your destination and explore the portal fully, probing and lapping at every fold of flesh. You taste every wrinkle first, taking the time to experience each nuance of skin and flesh before your quivering extremity. You build up a healthy coat of mucus and roll gleefully in the mingled fluids, nestled gently against the sensitive flesh.

You are filled with impulse and slide past the threshold, leaving the ecstasy of this moment for the ecstasy of the next. You spew thick fluids from all your mouths as you race gracefully forward, and the rings of flesh before you melt away in acceptance. Your body grows firm and tight with internal pressure as you find this new sanctum from the ashen air of the outside world and explore the detailed contours within. You press forward until you feel no need to press further, and then you luxuriate within the heated confines.

The walls flex and press inwards with urgency, and you ebb and swell in turn. You are filled with contentment again, your throbbing length bridging betwixt flesh and flesh.


End file.
